


Hand Jobs

by RavenGrey



Category: Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: After the Into Darkness, Cock-tease Spock, During the five year voyage, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Hand Sex, High-adrenaline sex, M/M, Vulcan hand sex in the Captain's chair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lingering traces of adrenaline surging through his veins, Jim traces his fingers over the broken skin of Spock’s knuckles, reveling in the soft gust of breath the action punches from Spock’s lungs. Jim grins, tired and lazy, and caresses the divot of a knuckle, eyes still locked with Spock’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand Jobs

**Author's Note:**

> Started this forever and a half ago, back when Into Darkness first came out, and I finally got around to finishing it. Any mistakes are my own. My first Spock/Kirk fic ever, hope my characterization doesn't suck to much.

 

             Anger, tightly leashed, rolls of off Spock in waves and Jim grins just a little at the way Spock’s eyes burn with indignant fury. He’d done something _incredibly_ stupid, and Spock had every right to be pissed, but it had been the only out he’d had left and he’d grabbed it with both hands and just gone for it.

            Crash landing on a Class K planet after a Klingon fleet raid hadn’t been quite how he’d planned on finishing up the day, but their right flank had taken considerable damage in the attack and an abrupt landing had been the only viable option.

            The situation had been dire, lives had been at stake, and they’d come out of the life or death situation with a few scrapes and bruises. Jim himself had busted his lower lip and bruised a hip. That was it. No death count. Minimal injuries. Their emergency systems had kicked in and everything was hunky dory. Bones had stormed onto the bridge, bitched up a storm, viciously hypoed him and then retreated to the sick bay with a warm, departing shoulder squeeze and a small lip twitch that could have been mistaken for a smile under the right circumstances.

            Spock had watched on frostily as Scotty had come onto bridge, 20 minutes after they’d crash landed on the planet’s surface, to give a damage report before leaving with a sincere, slightly hysterical, “Well done, lad.” to begin repairs on the ship before anything too nasty ambled their way.

 Starfleet had been contacted and everyone save the medical members on duty, engineering and a skeleton crew had been sent to bed. Jim had opted to stay awake to oversee the repairs and Spock had opted to stay awake to oversee Kirk. If Jim wasn’t seriously fucking tired, he would have been vaguely offended.

            Instead, he honestly can’t muster up any fucks to give about his disapproving second in command and instead watches the two separate suns rise, basking everything in a soft purple light as the dawn kisses the skyline.

            Alone on the bridge, save for Spock, Jim flops into the captain’s chair with a tired, incredulous laugh and presses the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Well, come on then _Mr. Spock_ ,” there’s a pleasantly mocking twist to Spock’s name, just noticeable under the fading adrenaline “have at me.” He levels Spock with an easy look, all cheer and false cockiness.

            The look he receives is positively glacial and he grins at his disdainful first officer, sinking even lower in his chair as exhaustion steals in.

           “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying, Captain, you took the only logical way out of disastrous situation, thus saving the lives of your crew and further endeavoring yourself to them in the process.” Spock’s tone is flat and Jim flops his head to the side, grinning lazily when he notices the tightness of Spock’s face and the way his jaw clenches.

            Spock’s hands are clenched tightly behind his back, the muscles of his biceps and forearms bunched up while he watches Kirk with narrowed eyes.

            “So, basically, what you’re saying in your own Spocky way is that I’m pretty freakin’ awesome and my captaining skills are to be revered and maybe even respected?” Jim bounces one of his knees, tapping the fingers of one hand against the smooth covering of his chairs console while he props his head up with the other.

            Spock’s eyebrows knit, just a little bit, and Jim wants to smooth away the little crinkle. Spock’s angry, Jim gets that, but he really wishes Spock would just get on with it. It’s a subtle thing, the flare of rage in Spock’s eyes as he takes a few genuinely menacing steps towards Jim and Jim tenses, his eyes a little wide at the sudden burst of emotion.

            Spock’s hands slam against the chair arm, caging in Jim’s reclining body and towering above him. “You could have taken out more than half of the crew.” Spock’s tone is quiet and lethal and so full of intent, the burning _something_ in his eyes sending a genuine shiver of shocked arousal down Kirk’s spine. It stirs heat in his belly and dances along his spine.

            “You could have could have taken out _yourself_.” The words are a low growl and Jim looks up into Spock’s face to find a fierce protectiveness that startles and pleases him immensely.

              “Didn’t though.” Jim interjects softly, tone wry, eyes smoothing over the slender outline of his fingers against the stark white of the arm.

             Spock’s hands are fascinating and things of odd beauty, a dark green coloring the skin of one set of his knuckles where the skin had broken. There’s a thin strip of a bruise over his right cheekbone and his back is a mottled assortment of greens, not that Jim can see that. Spock notices the trajectory of Jim’s gaze and fights down the illogical urge to cover the slight abrasion.

            He gives Jim the same agitated look from before, a mixture of exasperation, anger and an illogical amount of lust clouding his senses. “But you could have, and very nearly did. The gamble you took, while saving the ship and her crew, also put them into a considerable amount of danger.” Spock’s nerves are strung tight, the already voiced “you put yourself into a considerable amount of danger” goes unsaid.

            The captain is an extraordinary being, fearless and brave and wonderfully, stupidly heroic. When it had become apparent that they were going to crash, the captain had manned the bridge long enough for more than half of the U.S.S Enterprise’s personnel to make it safely to the escape shuttles and had piloted the Enterprise to safety with the remainder of her crew. The shuttles had rejoined with the main ship 22 minutes and 15.6811 seconds after the Enterprise had hit and most of the wounded had been tended to.

           “Ya know Spock, that look is _really_ doin’ it for me.” His casual tone has a breathy quality that it usually doesn’t and he watches the flicker of that same thing as it shudders over Spock’s face.

            The material on the arms of his chair groans quietly beneath Spock’s fingers as they tighten around the armrests and Jim can feel the heat radiating from Spock’s skin as he leans closer in, body language unintentionally threatening.

          “You utter _fool_.” Spock hisses, eyes narrowed enough that it’s noticeable to someone who knows how to look.

           Kirk does.

           Lingering traces of adrenaline surging through his veins, Jim traces his fingers over the broken skin of Spock’s knuckles, reveling in the soft gust of breath the action punches from Spock’s lungs. Jim grins, tired and lazy, and caresses the divot of a knuckle, eyes still locked with Spock’s.

             “And?” Jim drawls, body relaxed and eyes half lidded while he watches the controlled play of emotions in Spock’s eyes.

           Spock’s pupils dilate rapidly and his hands jerk hard, but don’t leave from where they rest. Spock is almost instantly hard from the gentle, teasing caresses and Jim’s already half way there from his earlier near death experience and Spock’s seriously fucking hot posturing.

             “ _And,”_ Spock grits out, “you are infuriating in every conceivable way possible-” Jim nudges Spock’s fore and middle finger apart to tease the delicate webbing between Spock’s fingers, effectively silencing Spock.

            “A point which I pride myself on.” Jim replies, only a little smug, and rubs slow circles over the skin of Spock’s thumb.

            Spock gives a wordless growl and sucks in a deep breath, fully hard inside his regulation black pants. His physical reaction to Kirk’s touches is unexpected and any shred of control he was attempting to exert flees when Kirk drags his nails down the back of Spock’s hand, head still resting in his palm while he watches Spock grow more and more aroused. 

            Chills shiver over Jim’s skin and his breath catches the slightest bit as his knees slide further open, erection tenting his pants visibly. “Captain, you are aware of what you are-” Spock breaks off mid-sentence, sucking in a hard breath when Jim drags his thumb gently over the highly sensitive skin between his fore and middle finger.

            He gives a lazy “Mm-hmm, sure am, Mr. Spock.” followed by an even lazier smile and coaxes Spock’s fingers away from the armrest. Spock’s body is still curved, almost predatorily, over his and Jim looks up into heated brown eyes as he pries the fingers of Spock’s hand free.

            The rest of Spock’s face is passive, almost disinterested, but his eyes betray him as he says in a cool tone “Well, _Captain_ , perhaps if you acted with less pride and more humility, you wouldn’t be in the position of trying to distract your first officer with sexual advances, so as to avoid reprimand.”

            “Yeah, but this is more fun.” Jim responds, grinning cheekily, while he brings Spock’s hand to his mouth and drags his lips over Spock’s first knuckle joint. His busted lip stings, but his eyes go half-lidded as Spock’s cheeks flush the faintest shade of emerald, even though he huffs out a quietly irritable breath.

            Jim grins unabashedly at the small concession and flicks his tongue into the groove between Spock’s thumb and forefinger, holding his hand a little tighter because he knows an involuntary jerk is coming. Spock’s breaths are still even, but the flush darkens and Jim looks up into Spock’s eyes while he closes his mouth around thin skin, delicate, dark green veins visible.

            Spock’s shoulders go tense, lips pursed as a shudder wracks his spine before he can stop it. Jim pulls away, watching the flicker of arousal that crosses Spock’s face.

            “This is alright, isn’t Commander?” Jim asks quietly, rubbing slow circles over the skin of Spock’s palm. Spock considers Jim’s words, noting the use of his proper title, and gives a short nod and says evenly “As Lieutenant Uhura and I are no longer a couple, and enough time has elapsed that neither bears any ill feelings towards the other, this is perfectly acceptable Captain.”

            Jim cocks an eyebrow, but responds with an even, pleasant “Alrighty then.” and takes two of Spock’s fingers into his mouth. Spock’s fingers twitch while his other hand clamps down tight around the arm of his Captain’s chair, Jim’s tongue sliding between Spock’s fingers. Spock’s skin is Vulcan hot against his tongue and Jim moans quietly, scraping his teeth gently over the slight jut of a knuckle before pulling his head back to press a kiss to the tip of Spock’s fingers.

            Spock’s breathing is slightly erratic as Jim takes three of his fingers into his mouth and sucks hard, tongue sliding slickly over his knuckles and the tips of his fingers. The knuckles of Spock’s other hand are a pale green as the hard edge of the arm bites into his fingers, his release pooling surprisingly quickly in his belly as Jim drags his teeth over each minute stretch of skin on the underside of each of his fingers.

            It’s when Jim, his wonderfully idiotic Captain, takes his fingers all the way and nips at the base of his fingers that Spock comes with a hard exhale, body slumping forward so his head rests against the top of the Captain’s chair. Jim sucks his fingers through it, head falling forward to rest somewhere around Spock’s ribcage, and only releases Spock’s fingers when he starts to stand again.

            Jim smiles, warm and wide at Spock and wipes his spit-slick bottom lip with his thumb. Spock’s eyes narrow, the inside of his boxers coated with his own ejaculate, and dutifully ignores the twitch of his softening member when Jim’s tongue darts out to drag over the pad of his thumb.

            Eyes dark with intent, Spock reaches down with an almost detached air and grips Jim through his pants, the outline of his cock hard against Spock’s palm, a hand still braced against the chair arm. He strokes him, slow and meticulous, and watches the way Jim’s eyes fall almost completely closed with an interested air. Jim moans, low in his throat, and lets his head fall back, baring his throat to Spock in an unconscious display of submission that has arousal stirring once more in his lower stomach.

            Pre-come soaks through two layers of fabric and Spock rubs a curious finger over it and brings it level to his mouth. He gives it a thorough examination before closing his lips over the digit and sucking it clean, the sharp taste of pre-ejaculate on his tongue. Jim’s hands move to grip thearms, fingers white-knuckled, spine beginning to arch as his orgasm builds. Jim’s fingers brush against his and Spock leans forward, body language possessive.

 His eyes are on Spock’s face, specifically his mouth and hand, and he pants out Spock’s name as his cock throbs with need. Spock smirks, just the littlest bit, and Jim’s stomach muscle contract as a brutal jolt of lust races up his spine and makes his cock twitch.  

            “Good luck with the repairs, Captain.” Spock leans in and whispers smoothly against the shell of Jim’s ear, the fingers he’d sucked clean brushing briefly, almost tenderly over Jim’s flushed cheek.

              Pulling completely away from Jim, he exits the bridge, no outward sign of exertion visible as he makes plans to retire to his room, the doors closing on Jim’s incredulous, aroused and oddly proud face.


End file.
